


I Was Alone (Until You Came Along)

by LonelyThursday



Series: Newsies Reincarnated [3]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: ADHD Race, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Amputee Crutchie, Autistic Race, Child Abuse, Family, Fem Crutchie, Fem Jack, Foster Care, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Middle School, Modern Era, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Character Death, Race has a stutter, Reincarnation, Selective Mute Race
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:40:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26331283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LonelyThursday/pseuds/LonelyThursday
Summary: Jack’s had these memories for years, ever since her mom left her. No one ever believed her, they said it's just her imagination. But Jack knows it was real, and this new foster brother confirms it.
Relationships: Crutchie & Jack Kelly, Crutchie & Racetrack Higgins, Racetrack Higgins & Jack Kelly
Series: Newsies Reincarnated [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1534421
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24





	I Was Alone (Until You Came Along)

**Author's Note:**

> So Race has a stutter (it's a specific type and it has a name, but I don't remember it and google wasn't helpful) where he repeats the last word or sound someone made before he continues speaking. My brother used to do this, but he grew out of it and doesn't do it anymore unless he's excited

When Jack was seven, her mom left. She knows this. Just like she knows that her father didn’t mope for long, that he immediately picked himself off the floor so he could provide for his daughter. Jack knows this, like she knows that no matter how hard he worked, it couldn’t stop the cancer from spreading. Jack knows that she was an orphan by the age of nine. 

She _knows_ this. 

But she also _knows_ that her mom had left before. That the first time her mom left, his father hadn’t handled it so well. She knows that he’d gotten drunk, that he’d kept losing job after job. She knows that one day he hadn’t come home, and he never knew what had happened to him. She knows that he’d been an orphan by the age of eight. 

And she _knows_ that she’d been a boy last time. 

But whenever she tries to tell someone about it, they say something along the lines of “what an active imagination you have, sweetie.” This is followed by condescending smiles and lots of pats on the head, like she’s a child or something. Well she is a child, but she sorta _remembers_ being an adult, it’s fuzzy, but it’s there. 

Her father had the same condescending air, but he encouraged her to draw the _memories._ He always praised her drawings, saying that she was his little artist. His favorites had been her drawings of the other newsies, or as he called them “those boys with the funny hats.” He hadn’t believed her about the _memories,_ but he’d _always_ encouraged her art. 

She misses him. 

She’s eleven now. She’s been on her own for two years, being shuffled from foster home to foster home, and after having her therapist, and multiple foster parents tell her that the _memories_ are just her imagination, she’s starting to doubt that the _memories_ are really _memories_ at all. Maybe her therapist is right, maybe she’s just “created this newsboy fantasy as a way to cope with your mother abandoning you and leaving you with your dying father.”

Maybe her therapist is right, but that doesn’t stop her from keeping her sketchbook full of drawings she’s done of people she _used_ to know. Full of boys that she had considered to be her family. She still considers them her family. It’s not like she’s got anyone else to fill that role. 

Her current foster home is alright, it’s not the worst she’s had, but she could definitely do without the weed smell, but no one’s hit her yet, so it’s pretty good. It’s currently her and one other girl, but there’s supposedly a new kid coming today, they might even be there when Jack gets back from school. She doesn’t want the new kid to be a boy, there’s only two bedrooms in the apartment, so if it’s a boy then he’ll have to share with her and Ronnie. And foster brothers can be worse than foster parents in her experience. 

When Jack and Ronnie return from school, their foster mother, Maria, is waiting in the living room, her hand resting on the shoulder of a small boy. Of course it’s a boy. 

“Veronica! Jacqueline!” Maria greets with false enthusiasm. “This is Anthony; he’ll be staying with us for a while. Isn’t it exciting?” 

Her hand tightens on the boy’s shoulder and he flinches, but she pays him no mind.

“Hello, Anthony,” Veronica says politely. 

“Hi, Anthony,” Jack mumbles a little less politely. Her foster mother gives her a _look,_ but doesn’t say anything. 

“Say ‘hello’, Anthony,” she tells the boy, her hand tightening again. The boy’s eyes widen, and his whole body seems to tense, but he doesn’t say anything. “I _said_ ‘say _hello_ , Anthony.’”

Anthony still says nothing. He’s shaking, and tears are falling from his eyes, but he says nothing. 

_Crack!_

Maria slaps the boy in the face. His head turns with the force of the blow. It looks painful, but he remains silent. 

Jack is stunned, Maria’s never hit her or Ronnie before, but after less than a day with his boy, she slaps him. Jack watches as the boy slowly turns his face forward again, still saying nothing, tears flowing faster. 

“Real men don’t cry,” Maria admonishes, walking away in disgust. Ronnie leaves too, going to the dining table to do her homework. 

Anthony continues to cry. He looks _familiar._ In fact, Jack realizes, he's one of the boys in her sketchbook. The ones that she’d “made up to cope with her mom leaving.” He’s a little younger, a little shorter, but it’s him. 

“Hey,” Jack says gently once they’re alone. Anthony flinches, but she doesn’t take it personally. “I’m Jack.”

She holds her hand out politely, but he doesn’t take it. He eyes it warily, but he doesn’t take it. 

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, you can just nod yes or no, but your name is Anthony, right?” Jack asks. 

Cautiously, the boy raises his head until he can look at her, then nods tentatively. Jack smiles. 

“Do you like being called ‘Anthony’?”

He shakes his head ‘no’. 

“Is there something specific you like to be called?”

A nod. 

“Is it ‘Tony’?”

A shake. 

“Will I be able to guess it?”

Another shake. 

“Can I come up with a new nickname for you?”

A brief hesitation, the a nod. 

“Do you like horses?”

Another nod. 

“Can I call you ‘Race’? Like a racehorse?”

This time, Anthony - no, Race - actually smiles as he nods enthusiastically. 

Jack smiles, she doesn’t think he _remembers_ the time _before,_ but he still likes being called ‘Race’. 

“It’s nice ya meetcha, Race,” she says in a full newsie accent. “I’se Jack Kelly.”

This time, when she holds her hand out, he takes it, grinning profusely. 

Her therapist can suck it. She didn’t make up the newsboys, they were real. They _are_ real. They’re here, in this time. And she’s going to find them. 

She doesn’t tell Race about the _memories._ He doesn’t have them, and she’s worried that he’ll think she’s crazy if she tells him. But even without the _memories,_ he’s the same kid from _before._ He’s got a mischievous grin, and a knack for gambling. He doesn’t talk as much as he used to, at least, not around other people, but when it’s just him and Jack, he doesn’t shut up. 

“-and miss Johnson said I wasn’t allowed to skip ahead in the math book anymore, but I still do when she’s not looking cuz she teaches. So. _Slowly.”_

“Not everyone is as good at math as you are, Racer.” Jack rolls her eyes, but she enjoys Race’s constant talking. It’s just the same old, same old. 

It’s been over a year, and Jack and Race are in a new foster home. Ronnie is gone, but Jack and Race managed to stay together. It’s probably because Race’s therapist knows that Jack is one of the few people he’ll talk to, and advised that they be moved together. Either way, Jack is just grateful that they’re together, _and_ that Race trusts her. 

Their new foster home is a little nicer than their last one. There’s two other kids, one boy and one girl, Jack shares a room with the other girl (a teenager who sneaks out a lot), and Race shares a room with the other boy, though this doesn’t stop Race from climbing into Jack’s bed in the middle of the night. Their new foster parents - a couple named José and Elaine - don’t hit either of them; though they do have some funny ideas about how to assign chores which often leads to Jack having a lot and Race having only one or two (but Race always helps Jack with her chores so that they can spend more time together).

“-cer. And Tiana asked me to draw a picture of my family, so I drew a picture of me and you-“ 

Jack hides her smile in her book, but she’s very pleased that Race drew her as his family. 

“-and she asked where my parents were and I told her that they’re dead, and I don’t get why she asked that cuz she _knows_ they’re dead,” Race complains about his therapist a little too loudly for the library that they’re in. “-d. And then she asked why my nonna wasn’t in the picture, and I told her that nonna’s dead too. Doesn’t she write stuff down? -n. She should know who’s dead and who isn’t.”

“I dunno, Race.” Jack says when she’s finally given the space to get a word in. “Maybe she wanted you to draw everyone who’s ever been your family.”

“-ly. Then she should have _said_ so,” Race huffs, crossing his arms. Jack laughs. 

“Will it make you feel better if I give you my math book?” Jack asks, pulling her textbook out of her bag. 

“-k. Yes!” Race snatches the book and starts going through it. Race is still in elementary school, but next year he’ll be in middle school, where he’ll probably be allowed to skip a year or two of math. But until then, he’s just gotta make do with Jack’s seventh grade math book. 

They get back to José and Elaine’s a little later than normal, but neither foster parent seems to notice. Elaine paces the kitchen while José speaks on the phone with someone. Jack and Race easily sneak past them and into the bedroom Race shares with Aaron (their foster brother, he’s a year older than Jack and a little bit of a jerk, but not the _worst_ Jack’s ever seen). Aaron’s already there, studying. 

“What’s with them?” Jack asks, jerking his thumb in the direction of the kitchen. 

“Kierra ran away,” Aaron says dismissively. “I doubt she’s coming back.”

“Guess I’ve got a room to myself then,” Jack says, pulling a Snickers out from Aaron’s secret stash. 

“No,” Aaron grabs the Snickers out of her hand before she can open it. _“I’ve_ got a room to myself. _You_ get to have the Wordless Wonder in your room every night.”

“Don’t call him that!” Jack snatches the Snickers back and tosses it to Race. Race opens it and stuffs it in his mouth before Aaron can take it back. 

“Whatever,” Aaron turns back to his homework. “Get out of my room.”

“Sure thing. C’mon, Race.” 

“-ce. Ignore him, Jackie,” Race says once they’re safely in Jack’s room. “He’s just a jerk.”

“I know, but he shouldn’t talk about you like you can’t hear him.” Jack throws her backpack across the room in frustration, but it dissipates quickly, leaving her tired. 

“-im. I don’t care what he thinks, Jackie.” Race says, draping his arm over her shoulder with a grin. “-ie. I got you, and we’se family.”

Jack laughs a little at Race’s grammar. He doesn’t remember, but he’s picked up some of the accent from her. And he’s right, who cares what Aaron thinks. 

In the end, neither Jack, nor Aaron were right. José and Elaine decide that they’re not cut out to be parents, calling Jack, Race, and Aaron’s social workers to come take them away, as if they’re goods that can be bought and returned as they feel like. Jack won’t miss them. 

What she will miss, however, is being in a house where she can breathe easy. Even before she and Race meet their next foster parent, she knows they’re in for a rough time. 

Their social worker tells them that their next foster home is run by a man named Warren Snyder. It could be a coincidence, but Jack highly doubts it. It’s much more likely, which her luck, that Warren Snyder is in fact, Mr. Snyder who ran the Refuge in the _past._ She can only hope that, like Race, he doesn’t _remember_ the _past._

There seems to be someone out there looking out for her, because as far as she can tell, Snyder doesn’t _remember_. That doesn’t mean he’s not still a horrible person, though. There’s already seven kids in his care, three in one bedroom and two in the other two, so Jack and Race get split up. 

There’s only a single bunk bed in the room that Jack is unceremoniously pushed into, with both bunks already occupied. Neither of the occupants look up at her entrance, and the sound of the door locking behind her only solidifies that Snyder is a spider, no matter what century he’s in. The room is small, besides the bunk beds there’s only a single dresser, a small desk, and a rickety chair. 

Jack drops her bag by the desk and collapses into the chair with a groan. This is going to be hard. Not just for her either, the door being locked means that Race can’t come into her room in the middle of the night. He doesn’t do well on his own, doesn’t sleep as well without someone there to comfort him. And how will any of his roommates know to comfort him if he isn’t able to talk to them. 

A tear falling from Jack’s eye and onto her hand startles her out of her thoughts. She can’t cry, not here, not now. Wiping the tears away, she grits her teeth and straightens her shoulders. She can’t show weakness here, not with Snyder around. She’s going to be strong, and she’s going to get herself out of this. Herself and Race. 

She’s _Jack Kelly_ for crying out loud. She can _do_ this. She’s done it before, and she can sure as _hell_ do it now. 

They don’t get dinner that night, and neither of her roommates are willing to let Jack sleep in their bed, so she balls up her sweatshirt and sleeps on the floor. It’s the worst place she’s had to sleep in _this_ life, but in her _last_ one, it wouldn’t have seemed so bad. 

Not being let out for dinner also means she doesn’t get to see Race. She hopes he’s okay, and that he gets to sleep on a bed. They’re in a new school district now, so she and Race will be attending the same school, and Snyder can’t stop her from talking to him there. 

Jack sees Race the next morning when Snyder lets them all out to go to school, but she doesn’t dare try to talk to him until they’re safely on the bus. 

Jack finds an empty seat and less than a second later, Race is sliding in next to her. He doesn’t say anything for a second, but he does grab onto her sleeve, grounding himself. 

“Hey Racer,” she says gently, she’s not sure how his night was, and she doesn’t want to push him too much. “How are ya feelin’?”

“-in. ‘M okay, Jackie,” Race mumbles, pulling a little on her sleeve. “I missed you, but Charlie let me sleep in her bed.”

“Charlie?” As Jack asks, the blonde girl sitting in front of them - whom Jack realizes had been at Snyder’s too - turns to grin at them. 

“Hi!” She says sticking her hand over the seat. “I’m Charlotte, but I like ta be called Charlie!”

Charlie is familiar. So familiar. She may be a girl, but Jack would recognize that button nose, those warm blue eyes, and that genuine smile anywhere. 

Jack grins in kind and accepts the handshake. “It’s nice ta meetcha, Charlie. I’se Jack Kelly.”

Charlie’s smile widens at Jack’s accent, and Jack wonders if she remembers, or if she just thinks it’s funny like Race does when she talks like that. 

“-ly. Charlie’s really nice,” Race says, and Jack smiles to herself when she realizes that it means Race can talk to Charlie. “She let me share her bed, and gave me half of her goldfish when we didn’t get dinner. -er. Did you know that she’s missing a leg! She uses crutches to get around and-“

Race continues to chatter until they reach the school. Jack is a little worried that he might offend Charlie by telling Jack so much personal information about her, but Charlie just continues to smile kindly, adding her own details here and there. 

Once at school, Charlie walks them to the office before heading off to her first class. 

In the office, a bored looking secretary hands them each a class schedule and locker combination and shoos them off to a little seating area where they’ll wait for someone from student counsel to come show them around. 

Race swings his legs in the chair as they wait, glaring at his schedule that says he’ll be in a normal sixth grade math class. Jack gives her own schedule a quick once over, but it’s more or less the same classes she’d had at her last school, so she doesn’t pay it much mind. She places her arm on the arm rest between herself and Race, so he can easily grab on to her if he needs to. 

Race takes the offering without looking up from his schedule. “-nd. Lunch?” He whispers. 

“A,” Jack responds, knowing exactly what he’s asking. Based on the dejected look on Race’s face, he’s got a different lunch. “Well maybe Charlie has your lunch,” she offers, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “You like her, right?”

Race nods. “-t. Charlie’s nice,” he murmurs. “-ce. What if I don’t have lunch with either of you?”

“I’m sure there’s other nice kids here.” Jack tries to look reassuring on the outside, but she is worried. Kids had never liked Race before - at least not in this lifetime - they thought he was too quiet, or he talked weird, or he acted weird, and if someone decided to bully him during lunch, Jack wouldn’t have any way of helping him. 

Their conversation is cut off there by a boy, maybe a year older than Jack, entering the office and walking over to them. 

“Jacqueline Kelly and Anthony Higgins?” He asks. His smile is a little too bright, a little too wide. Fake. Jack instantly dislikes him, but she doesn’t have to like him, he’s just supposed to show them around, and then they’ll probably never interact again. 

“That’s us,” Jack puts on her own fake smile, though hers is much more natural looking, having had years to perfect it. “I’m Jack, this is Race.”

“What kind of names are those?” The boy snorts. Jack’s smile instantly falls into a more serious look. 

“They’re nicknames.” The boy snorts again, and Jack glares. “Ya showin’ us around, or ain’tcha?”

“Yeah, whatever,” he waves his hand dismissively. “I’m Tyler, I’m the ASB Vice President, follow me.”

Tyler leads them around the whole school quickly, without much care whether or not Jack or Race remembered anything he said. He leaves them by their lockers (which were thankfully pretty near each other) with passes to excuse their tardiness to their first period teachers. 

“Ass,” Jack mutters as soon as he’s out of earshot. “I don’t even remember where anything is.”

“-s. Cafeteria is that way, library and gym that way, math and science that way, and English and arts that way,” Race says, pointing down different hallways. 

“Thanks,” Jack tries to commit the directions to memory, but more likely than not, she’ll be late to all her classes today due to getting lost. 

Race and Jack put their things into their lockers quietly. 

“-s. I’ll see you later?” Race asks hopefully, like he thinks she’s going to leave or something. 

“Of course,” she promises. “I’ll see you after school.”

Race nods. After a moment of hesitation, he gives her a quick hug and scurries off towards the English and art classes. Jack sighs. She slams her locker shut and heads in the opposite direction. Gym, _ugh._

Gym isn’t too bad, she needs to get a gym uniform and get set up with a gym locker, so she doesn’t have to actually do anything physical today. Tomorrow will be a different story, but for today she can just sit on the bleachers in her normal clothes. 

After gym she has English. She passes Race during passing period, he looks a little stressed, but his face instantly brightens when he sees her. They don’t have time to talk, but seeing that Race is ok does a lot to settle her mind. 

English is boring, world civ is even worse, but once she’s through both of those… It's time for lunch, and since she doesn’t have any friends, she’s not expecting that to be great either, but maybe she can find a nice quiet spot to sketch. 

“Jack!” A voice calls once she’s paid for her lunch tray. She glances around, finding a familiar blonde head turned in her direction. 

“Charlie!” Jack responds, hating herself a little for the flood of relief that washes over her. As nice as it is to have someone she knows to eat lunch with, if Charlie has lunch with her then Race has lunch alone. 

“How are you enjoying your first day?” Charlie asks and Jack takes a seat next to her. 

Jack shrugs. “Same as any other first day, I guess.”

Charlie nods, turning to her own lunch tray. “Yeah I get that. This is my third new school, but it’s the only middle school I’ve gone to.”

“This has got to be like my fifth new school, not counting the couple of times I ended up back in a school I’d already been in.”

“That sucks.” Charlie says simply. Jack snorts, almost choking on her food, causing Charlie to laugh. 

“God, I’ve missed ya, Crutch,” Jack says before her brain catches up with her. Oops. 

Charlie doesn’t seem bothered though, she just smiles. “Missed ya, too, Jack.”

Yeah, she _remembers_. 

“Race doesn’t _remember?”_ Charlie says more than asks, Jack nods. “Still Race though.”

“Yeah,” Jack smiles, then she remembers that Race will be alone at lunch and her smile drops. “He’s gonna be alone all day.”

“He could make new friends?” Crutchie offers. “He’s always been pretty friendly.”

“Maybe,” Jack concedes reluctantly. She doubts it, but Race always has a way of surprising her. 

Talk about Race being friendly, Crutchie has _always_ been the nicest person Jack has ever met, and even now she’s quick to make friends. She introduces Jack to several friends she’s made since moving in with Snyder, none of them are any of the past newsies, but Jack supposes they’re nice enough.

The rest of the school day moves quickly, and it’s not long before Jack is back on the bus with Race beside her and Charlie in front of them. Race had buried his head in her shoulder the moment he’d sat down, so Jack guesses that school didn’t go so well for him. 

“How are you doing?” Jack had tried to ask, but she’d only received a grunt in return. 

“-ing. ‘M tired, Jackie.” Race mumbles after ten minutes. 

“I know, Racer. It’ll be okay, I promise.” She doesn’t know that though. They’re living with _Snyder._ It may be over a hundred years later, but Jack doubts he’s gotten any better. Hopefully he hasn’t gotten worse. 

**Author's Note:**

> The next chapter will be Crutchie POV  
> it might be a while before its posted, time keeps slipping away from me and suddenly its been two months and I'm pretty sure I've done nothing. In fact, this specific fic was sitting, completed, on a Word document on my laptop for like two weeks waiting for me to edit it, and I just straigh up forgot until this morning :/
> 
> Be Safe  
> Wear a Mask  
> If you can't say "Black Lives Matter", then you don't mean it when you say "all lives matter"  
> Just know that your teachers are struggling too (they've probably never taught an online course before)  
> Register Vote if you're old enough (and check your registration staus, and how your state takes their mail-in ballots)  
> You're doing so Well  
> I Love you All


End file.
